


The Mysterious Case of the Copperstone Slaughter

by SouthBound



Series: The Chapters of Overlook Coast [2]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - CSI: Crime Scene Investigation, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Gen, Murder Mystery, Side Story, human! Winston, i don't know yet, might merge this with parent story, sort of, story will update jointly with parent story, the ages are all screwed up
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-02
Updated: 2016-08-23
Packaged: 2018-07-28 18:56:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7652929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SouthBound/pseuds/SouthBound
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Special Agent Morrison’s team usually dealt with problems much larger than a murder case. Usually he found himself battling bomb scares, domestic terrorists, and even the occasional high profile hostage negotiation. Usually the normal murder investigation was always passed down to the local law enforcement.</p>
<p>Unfortunately, it seemed like the Case of the Copperstone Slaughter was anything but normal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> In order to fully understand what is happening in this story, I recommend you read the first chapter of And Yet I Live, which is the parent story to this. If you have any questions about the reading order, please check the Series page for clarification, which will be updated with each chapter update.

 Ten minutes after he finally turned in for the night, his phone suddenly went off.

The phone’s incessant buzzing and chirping against the glass surface was just annoying enough to wake even the heaviest sleeper. Fortunately, or unfortunately for his sake, Special Agent Jack Morrison was not a heavy sleeper. In fact, Jack Morrison was increasingly restless despite running on only 4 hours of sleep from last night. And it seemed he wouldn’t be getting any sleep tonight either.

With a groan, Jack rolled out of his bed and tried to ignore the dull aching in his neck and back. He didn’t even bother putting on his slippers as he trudged over towards the far table of the room, where his phone was still vibrating on the glass surface. He took a quick look at the time stamped on the phone: 3:24. Momentarily he berated himself; he should have been asleep hours ago.

With an exhausted sigh, Jack cleared his throat and answered his phone. “This is Jack Morrison of the FBI.”

“Jack, its Winston.” The man’s deep voice was almost carried away by a strong wind. Wherever the man was, it was outside in the elements. “Athena just got a call from the Police Captain, Precinct 08. Something major just happened, and she says its right up our alley.”

If Jack hadn’t been awake yet, he was now. If Athena thought something big just happened, he needed to be at his best, even if it was 3:30 in the morning. He rushed towards his closet despite his tired state, turning on the lamp on his nightstand on his way. Within seconds he was grabbing a clean shirt and throwing it onto his disheveled bed.

Jack coughed, trying to shake away the tiredness in his voice. “What is it, a bombing? Hostage negotiating?”

“Attempted murder.” Winston answered curtly. “And the perpetrator nearly succeeded. At least that’s what the report says from the officers who found the poor fellow.”

“Who’s the victim?” Jack asked as he pinched his phone between his shoulder and the side of his jaw. He reached down and grabbed the discarded pair of pants he had only taken off half an hour ago. He barely paid attention to the act of getting dressed, his mind already shifting through the work ahead. “Foreign delegate? Political official?”

“We don’t know yet, Jack. Crime scene is still fresh, maybe half an hour old? The Vic is already in surgery at a nearby hospital. Hopefully they’ll make it, but at the moment it doesn’t look promising.” Winston said, almost sounding short of breath. The rattling wind from the other end of the call was still threatening to carry the other man’s voice away. Jack realized that his colleague was running. “I’m on the way to the crime scene right now. We won’t know anything until we get there.”

“Give me the address; I’ll be there as soon as I can. And call the rest of the team.” Jack ordered.

“Already called Lena and Gérard. I’ll work on the others.” Winston said. He then stated the address. Jack frowned at the mention of the Copperstone neighborhood. “See you soon, Jack.”

Jack hung up the phone before he roughly shoved it into his pocket. He finished buttoning up his shirt before grabbing his windbreaker and backpack. Jack quickly made sure he had his gun and badge before heading towards his small kitchen. He found the coffeepot, still full of cold, day old coffee. Jack reached for a travel mug and poured himself a large cup.

He quickly tasted the old brew, and then wrinkled his nose in disgust. It was awful, but the stuff would keep him alert for the remainder of the night. Or rather the early morning.

Making sure he had picked up the keys to his apartment, Jack left and headed towards the stairwell.

Jack barely paid attention to the building’s doorman as he headed for the adjourning parking garage. He quickly found his car and climbed inside, throwing his belongings aside and into the passenger seat. Jack started the car, allowing for the engine to rumble as he quickly typed in the address into his phone’s gps app.

Within seconds he was shooting out of the garage, wheels spinning and the flashing lights of his beacon illuminating the streets.

The Copperstone Neighborhood was on the other side of Overlook Coast, out towards the poorer districts where crime was more abundant. In Jack’s personal experience, it was a place no upstanding citizen would want to find themselves in, especially after dark. It would take him some time to reach his destination, and Jack knew that the rest of the team would arrive well before him. Thankfully he knew they would follow procedure even with their boss absent.

Twenty minutes passed before Jack finally arrived to the scene of the crime, the whole block was bathed in the lights from several squad cars, a lone ambulance, and even a medical examiner’s utility truck. Jack grimaced at the sight of the examiner’s truck; Winston had told him that the Vic had survived. But a lot could change in one hour.

Jack pulled up beside the convoy of squad cars. He shut the engine off before grabbing his stuff and climbing out. Ahead of him he could see yellow police tape ceiling off the entrance to the crime scene, a destitute storage and shipping warehouse by the looks of it. A standard patrol officer, no one under his leadership, was on standby and was currently guarding the entrance as they shivered in the cold wind.

With his badge ready in one hand and his cold coffee in the other, Jack approached the officer. They saw his badge and quickly waved him forward, grabbing the police tape and holding it high enough for Jack to walk underneath it, albeit hunched over.

“My team?” Jack gruffly asked as he continued forward, not even bothering to pause to politely ask the officer.

“Already inside, Special Agent.” They said through their shivers, rubbing their stiff hands together as they did so.

Jack grunted as a response before heading inside.

The place was a wreck; that much was obvious from even a first glance. The place was cluttered and disorganized; the air felt musty and stale. With an inexperienced eye, it would be extremely difficult to differentiate between the signs of a struggle, or just poor cleaning services. Fortunately Jack was very experienced. Whoever owned this warehouse needed to invest in better uptake, if they had the money to do so.

Jack followed the sound of a couple familiar voices, and he soon found their crime scene.

Jack paused, stopping to take a look at the large room’s layout and to sip at his cold coffee.

Now here were obvious signs of a struggle, and a violent one at that. Some of the warehouse’s goods had been severely damaged. Cardboard and wooden crates had been damaged haphazardly, sliced open to reveal their damaged cargo inside. One row of boxes had been knocked over, having been crushed under the weight of something. Or perhaps someone. There were strange grooves and markings on the cement floor below, which had already been marked off and labeled by someone on his team.

And then there was the ever so obvious splatter and pool of blood in the far corner. The sight made Jack’s stomach churn, and he lost his appetite for coffee.

He had several years under his belt, and for the most part Jack had become accustomed to seeing several horrible sights, for better or worse. But every once in a while, another case would pop up that was too disturbing even for him. Jack had a sinking feeling that this would end up being one of those cases.

Jack shook his head, physically waving away those thoughts. Now was not the time; he had work to do.

Already his team was at work.

Lena was crouching down near the destroyed crates, camera in hand as she took the crime scene photos. Lena looked no worse for wear, and not tired at all. She was still wearing yesterday’s clothes, and despite their slightly rumbled state, still looked professional underneath her dark blue windbreaker. Jack briefly questioned whether she had left Headquarters for the night before dismissing such thoughts; it didn’t matter at the moment.

Lena was a good agent, and she was already deep in her work. Lena was muttering to herself as she continued to snap several pictures. Her words were far too faint and spoken too fast for Jack to catch from where he stood. However he recognized her tone; she was verbally taking down notes, more than likely recording it with her handy voice recorder that was just barely visible in her front pocket.

“… so if. Hmm, maybe… oh! Aha! A bit of blood!” Jack heard Lena’s voice perk up. There was the flash from her camera. “Looks like someone got a cut from here. Possibly trying to stop from falling over. Were they backing up in the fight? And then they instinctively reached out to grab the nearest object for support? Hmm… maybe… maybe…”

He’d leave her be. Lena would come get him if she found anything significant. Instead, Jack went on to inspect how the rest of his agents were doing.

Winston was not too far behind Lena. The large man was collecting evidence samples. In his gloved hands were several baggies, all empty, and a pair of precise pliers to collect what little was left behind. Later in the morning he’d bring it back to the lab for Mei to analyze it. Winston noticed Jack’s arrival and nodded to the man before he returned his attention to his work.

Jack watched Winston work in silence before he quickly found his own set of gloves. Jack quickly slid them on before bending down beside Winston.

“What do you have?” Jack asked as he grunted down into a crouch.

“Surprisingly not much. A couple hair samples maybe, if we’re lucky.” Winston said through his own grunt. “So far as I can tell, this wasn’t a shoot out. There are no bullet casings, and the 911 caller didn’t mention a gun fight. Ballistics can be ruled out then.”

“By the sounds of it, are you thinking it was a knife fight?” Jack asked. He quickly looked over his should towards the large splatter of blood on the wall, where he could see Agent Lacroix, hunched over as he took his own set of pictures, the flash highlighting the bright crimson red of the blood. “That’s a lot of blood for a simple knife.”

“I agree. But what else could leave such a mess behind?”

Jack didn’t have an answer for him. Not yet at least. This was no time of making assumption, but rather for collecting the evidence they could find. If anyone could find the answer, however, it would be Mei. The woman had a marvelous talent for forensics, and with Winston’s help hopefully the team could narrow down the options of the murder weapon.

“I’ll leave that to you, Winston.” Jack said as he gently patted Winston’s shoulder. “Anything else I should know about?”

Winston let out a small sigh as he carefully went through the bags he already collected. Eventually he found what he was looking for and handed it over to Jack. Jack inspected it, deftly holding the bag up to the light, squinting as he tried to look through the bag. The small object was hard to see without his contacts or glasses.

“What is this?” Jack asked.

“It looks like some kind of piercing to me, but I can’t tell what type.” Winston said. He then scowled as he let out a small shudder. “Body piercings freak me out; needles even more so. I could never get one myself.”

Jack ignored Winston’s side comments. And then he took another careful look at the object in question. It definitely was some form of piercing. It was small, and it was a painted chrome green. Something was etched into it, but it was too small to read from here. Again, Mei would have to take a closer look at it. But what was most noticeable about it was the crusted blood that was covering half of it.

“Yeah, you’re right. It does look like a standard ear piercing to me.” Jack said. “If we have any luck, it could belong to the Vic.”

“We’ll see if we can get a match for the blood when they get out of surgery.” Winston agreed as he took the small evidence bag back and stuffed it into his personal bag. “I’ll keep you updated if I find the matching piece.”

Jack left the man to his work and made his way towards Gérard Lacroix, who was now joined by Reinhardt. Gérard was carefully overlooking the photos he had taken and sharing them with the other man, hoping to get the other’s approval. The two men noticed Jack’s approach and made room for him to peer over their shoulders.

“Morning, Jack.” Gérard greeted as he flipped through the photos. He seemed too awake this early in the morning, and briefly Jack envied the man. “Quite a fresh start to the morning, do you agree? Nothing says good morning like hour old blood splatter.”

“Not the time for jokes, Lacroix.” Jack grumbled, quickly reprimanding the man before returning to business. “What’s the verdict?”

“Ah, my apologies. Anyways, from what I can tell, most of the splatter was caused by a large object. But it wasn’t a blunt object. There’s too much spray for something that crude.” Gérard said.

Gérard handed his camera to Reinhardt’s open hands. The man carefully stepped towards the wall, and his hands hovered above the red splatter. He moved his hands as he spoke, as if to emphasize his discoveries.

“Even if it was something blunt, the angle of the spray would be more scattered and random. This splatter follows a careful line. The weapon had to be something sharpened. It was an actual weapon, not something that would be used to improvise during the fight.” Gérard said. “I don’t think it was a knife, but something larger. Maybe more like a machete or an axe? But something like that would be noticeable. Someone would have noticed it.”

“Too bad this happened in the middle of the night.” Reinhardt finally spoke up, shaking his head. “Not that many people are up this late. And anyone who would have spotted this weapon probably couldn’t see it in the dark. Still, I’ll make sure to get a statement from people in the surrounding area. Maybe we’ll get lucky.”

Jack nodded his head in agreement, but didn’t speak up. Most of his attention was on the cooled pool of blood below them. Seeing that amount of blood sickened Jack, and he briefly questioned how the victim survived the attack. Too much blood loss would have done them in if the patrolling officers hadn’t found them in time.

“What about this?” Jack asked, motioning towards the pool of blood.

“Just a lot of blood, Jack. There’s too much to tell how the Vic’s wounds were inflicted. At least, not from here. But if my hunch is correct, it would have been the same weapon as this one.” Gérard stated, hands waving back towards the blood splatter on the wall.

“Sounds like finding the weapon is our first order of business.” Jack said. “Let’s hope the suspect stashed the weapon instead of keeping it on their person. As soon as you’re done snapping pictures, make a clean sweep of the surroundings Lacroix.”

“Yes sir!” Gérard said with a stiff nod of his head before he returned to his work.

Jack stepped away, but motioned for Reinhardt to follow him. As the pair of men made their way towards the back of the warehouse, Jack paused to look up at his old friend. 

“What about you?” Jack asked.

“I’ve checked the perimeters for any forced entries. So far as I can tell, there isn’t one, save for the front door.” Reinhardt said as he quickly got out his small notepad. He flipped through the pages absentmindedly before looking up again. “Lena’s already taken the photos of it, but from what we can tell, it looks like someone opened it from the _inside_.”

“What?” Jack asked. He gave Reinhardt a perplexed look, which the other man returned with a small shrug. “Are you sure?”

“You heard me, Jack. From the inside.” Reinhardt repeated. “It wasn’t a forced entry as far as we can tell, but it was definitely someone’s escape route. Lena took photos of the scuff marks to prove it. Whoever did this, it seems like they were here well before the place was locked up.”

“Are you sure there’s no other way they made it inside?”

“I’m sure, Jack. Everything else is locked up tight. No windows are broken too.” Reinhardt said with confidence. The man crossed his arms as he fidgeted in place. “Either the perpetrator and victim were already here before the warehouse was locked up, or one had a key to the place.”

Jack nodded. “Get in contact with the owner of this place. I want a list of everyone who had a key then by the end of the day. And do another check; I don’t have a good feeling about this.”

“I’ll get right on it.” Reinhardt said with a nod.

Jack watched as the man left his side. Jack quickly took this time to take another look over the crime scene. His team had made quick work, and despite the seemingly small amount of evidence left behind, Jack knew that he had enough to work with. Give them another couple hours and hopefully something big would be discovered.

For the Victim’s sake.

Finally Jack made his way back to Lena. The woman had long since stopped her small chatter to her recorder. The woman was compiling her evidence, stuffing everything into her evidence bag. The camera was slung over one shoulder, its memory card ready to import its inventory into the computer network back at the lab. Beside her was the medical examiner, who had been finally allowed into the crime scene. With no corpse to bring back to their lab, they wouldn’t remain on the premises for long, but they were still required to be here by the mayor’s orders.

Jack waited for Lena to finish talking with the medical examiner. He had no desire to talk with them. Fortunately both Lena and the medical examiner ignored Jack for the most part. Lena quickly set the man free to do his job and then she turned to face Jack.

“What can I do for you, boss?” Lena asked.

“Give me some of your thoughts.” Jack stated before taking a sip of his almost forgotten coffee. “What can you tell me?”

Lena let out a long huff of air, her messy bangs quickly flying in the short puff. Lena gently nibbled on her bottom lip as she thought. Jack waited patiently for the woman.

“Whoever did this was a real piece of work, Jack. A sadistic bastard.” Lena finally stated. “Usually with most crime scenes there’s a lot more to work with. Shootings are easy; just find who the gun was registered to and from there it’s easy peasy. But then again… if this was an easy case we wouldn’t have been assigned to it, yeah?”

She didn’t wait for Jack to answer her rhetorical question.

Lena let out a small, suddenly serious sigh. “Last time I checked the Vic is still alive, but in critical condition. Poor boy. Heard from the patrol officers he couldn’t have been older than 25. Maybe even younger… I’m only 26, Jack.”

She paused again, frowning in a mixture of sadness and concern. From the corner of his eye Jack could see Lena tightening her hands into shaking fists.

“I’m not surprised to find that this is hitting me harder than most cases.”

Jack agreed with her on that. Lena was young, almost too young to be a Special Agent. Especially on one of the FBI’s most upstanding squads. She had joined up only a couple years ago, straight out of the armed forces and with perhaps too much gusto for this job in particular. But Lena had shown potential, and her work ethic had rivaled even Jack’s, which had been enough to convince him that she had earned her spot.

But then sometimes Jack would be reminded about just how young she was. About just how many disturbing and horrific things Lena was seeing that he wouldn’t have wished on anyone. Lena may act all tough, but she was still just barely older than a child in Jack’s eye.

“We’ll get whoever did this, Lena.” Jack said, taking the woman’s words into careful consideration.

“Oh, I’m planning on it. They’re not going to get away from us. Not this time.” Lena said with a steadfast nod, determination returning to her once quiet voice. “Now come on, there a few evidence pieces I want you to look over before I send it back to the lab.”

Lena led him over to her area. For the next several minutes she went over notes that she took, playing back the tape recorder and writing down time stamps of some important discoveries she made. Jack paid most of his attention to the recording, gazing at nothing while he focused on her hasty words. No one bothered them while Jack listened; although he was briefly distracted when he saw Winston and Reinhardt approach them both.

Fortunately the two men waited for Jack to finish the recording.

“Good work, Lena.” Jack said as he returned the recorder back to her. She took the small object and pocketed it inside her bag. Jack quickly looked at his phone, checking the time. It was already almost 5; soon the sun would be rising. “Head back to the lab and drop your evidence off for Mei. Head home and get some rest; come back when you’ve taken a shower and gotten a couple hours of sleep. Don’t think I didn’t notice that you’re wearing yesterday’s clothes.”

“I could say the same thing to you, Jack.” Lena commented.

“I don’t need sleep.” Jack muttered.

“Yes you do.” Winston said as he pushed up his glasses. “You’ve got bags under your eyes, and no amount of coffee you put into your system will get rid of them.”

“I’ll sleep when I’m dead.” Jack deadpanned. He then shook his head and turned to face Winston and Reinhardt. “Found anything?”

Reinhardt shook his head. “Again, there are no other entries. Unless they had a key to the warehouse, both the victim and the perpetrator had been inside before the place locked up for the night.”

“That still sounds highly unlikely to me.” Jack commented.

“It is what it is, Jack.” Reinhardt said with a shrug. “We won’t know anything more until we question those who work here.”

Jack nodded, finally relenting. He paused as he made a mental note to have the owner and workers questioned back at Headquarters. They’d need to do it sooner rather than later, hopefully from stopping anyone suspicious from setting up an alibi.  That meant doing it today as soon as it was late enough to get into contact with these people.

Lena was just about to leave. However, she paused and quickly nudged an elbow into Winston’s side. Winston turned to look down at his coworker and close friend.

Lena quickly spoke up. “Say… any luck in finding the arm?”

Wait.

_What?_

Jack couldn’t help but turn to look at her, startled at what she had just said. “The _arm?!_ ”

“Yeah, the sick bastard who did this cut off the Vic’s arm entirely. Left nothing but a bloody stump. But we haven’t found any sign of it.” Lena explained, nodding her head as she spoke.

Jack felt his stomach churn at the thought. This case had just turned much more barbaric, and just a tad bizarre. “God. Now that’s just sick.”

“Do you think they could have taken it as some twisted form of a trophy?” Gérard asked aloud.

“We can’t rule it out, not unless we find it.” Jack said, shaking his head as he tried to dismiss how abruptly creepy this had become. “Do we know which arm it is?”

“Uh… the right one, I believe.” Winston answered.

“Keep an eye for it around the neighborhood, search the trash and in alleys. An… arm is going to be noticeable.” Jack couldn’t believe was he was asking his team to do. The words sounded foreign even in his own mouth. “Ask around the precincts, inform the police captains; make sure that the city’s officers will keep an eye out for any severed human body parts. Speaking of which, where are the officers that found our Vic?”

“Last time I checked, they were still with the Vic, at the hospital.” Winston said.

Jack nodded. He took one last sip of coffee before speaking up again. “Ok, I’m heading there right now. Stay here until you check the entire area. Once you’re satisfied, head back to the lab. I’ll meet you there when I’m done talking with the officers.”

His instructions were quickly met with the affirmative responses of his team mates.

Jack quickly left the crime scene, only to be met with the quickly approaching sunrise. The dark sky was quickly fading away as light blues and oranges were hugging the rooftops by the east. Most of the squad cars had disappeared, leaving only a few left behind. A new officer was patrolling the crime scene’s entrance, and Jack gave them a stiff nod as they left.

Jack climbed into his car and quickly searched for directions to Saint Mercy’s General Hospital


	2. Chapter 2

It was barely 5:30 in the morning, and yet the hospital was still buzzing with life.

The sun wasn’t set to rise for another hour, which served as a hard reminder for Jack that he hadn’t had a good night’s rest for well over two days now. And now he was out of coffee; he didn’t dare drink the bitter brew that the hospital staff offered him, no matter how much he craved the stuff. No, Jack would rather risk over exhaustion for the rest of the day than have an upset stomach.

Jack was currently leaning against a wall just outside of Operating Room 12, staring down the eerily empty hallway. The Vic was still inside, and had been for the past 2 or so hours, going through critical and life saving surgery. None of the hospital staff had the time to stop and inform Jack of how the Vic was handling, and at this point Jack didn’t think he needed to act as a distraction.

Fortunately for him, he wasn’t alone.

Across from him, sitting down in a plastic folding chair was police officer Ana Amari. She was rocking slightly in her chair, just a little movement that could have gone by unnoticed if it weren’t for how closely he was gauging her. Her hands were gripping the side of the chair with enough force to turn her knuckles a pale white, and she had barely recognized Jack’s presence. Most of her focus was either on the door leading into the operating room or on her scuffed boots.

Jack took this opportunity to take her in. She was an older woman, dark skin and graying dark hair which had been put up neatly into a bun maybe several hours ago, but now it was steadily becoming undone. Her face was stern and mature, a few wrinkles by her eyes that were only made more noticeable by the stress she had been put through and the lack of sleep she had gone without. But what was most noticeable was the marking just below her left eye; from this angle it looked like a simple tattoo, styled like the outline of an Egyptian Hieroglyphic eye.

To his surprise, Amari was still in her uniform despite the smeared dry blood stain that covered the entirety of her left side. There were faint traces of blood on her exposed arm, but someone had cleaned most of it off of her.

Amari looked shaken, dazed out and heavily affected by what she had witnessed. Jack made a mental note to have someone look at her to make sure this wouldn’t permanently affect the poor woman. If he had time, he would ask Reinhardt to come down and speak with her after questioning. Reinhardt had a knack when it came to speaking with civilians.

Beside Officer Amari was a large, muscular woman that had somehow managed to fall asleep. Yet she still looked uncomfortably overstressed even in sleep. She was sitting on the ground by Amari, hunched over and arms holding her legs close to herself. Her face was hidden, but her pink hair was not. However, Jack could see that on her right side was a giant, matching stain of dried blood. This must have been Amari’s partner, Officer Aleksandra Zaryanova.

So these were the two officers that had found his Vic.

Until the Vic either recovered from surgery or passed on from his injuries, these two women were Jack’s next source of information. But unfortunately for Jack he only had to look at them to realize that both were in no state for questioning. So he had to play the waiting game.

As a wave of exhaustion hit him, Jack started to wish he had taken up that offer for fresh coffee.

Hours passed by, and still there was no word from the doctors inside the operating room. Jack couldn’t help but shake his head in helpless frustration. As more time passed by, the less likely the Vic was to survive. Jack’s had enough experience to know when to call it.

Soon it’d just be pointless.

It seemed Officer Amari knew as well, as she soon unclawed her hands from their death grip and brought them through her hair instead, finally undoing the bun. Amari gripped at the loose strands tightly, but not with enough force to hurt herself. She started to rock herself in the chair, finally showing that she was cracking under mental pressure.

That was Jack’s cue to bring her back, away from all this.

Jack carefully made his way over and crouched down beside her. He was tempted to put his hand on her shoulder, but hesitated. She needed her space right now. Still, Amari caught his movement just outside of her peripherals, but barely acknowledged Jack’s presence. Instead, Amari seemed to be focusing on keeping her breaths even and steady.

“Hello. Officer Amari?” Jack quietly asked her.

Her golden eyes flashed to meet his before returning to her booted feet. The only instance she gave to let Jack know she heard him was a stiff nod of her head. That was the only inclination he needed to continue speaking.

“Would you like to take a short walk with me?” Jack asked. _Do you want to get away for a moment?_

This time Amari looked up at the door leading to the operating room. Still she did not breathe a word to him, but he understood her. _No, not until I know what’s going on_.

“We won’t be gone long. You have my word.” Jack continued.

A few long moments passed as Amari thought about his offer. Or Jack assumed she was thinking about the offer, but after she didn’t make any impression that she heard him Jack was about to retreat to his original station. Before he could move away however, Amari finally spoke up.

“Wait.”

Her voice was just barely a whisper, and it was almost covered up by the hum of the Hospital’s air conditioning. Still, Jack heard it and he turned to hold her gaze. Her golden eyes were somber and cold; he could just faintly see the traces of a few dried tears. Jack raised a single eyebrow at her, and then offered her a helping hand.

After some hesitation, Amari took the offered hand, and with his help she stood up from her chair. He could tell just by watching her that her body felt stiff, and her knees were weak. But she straightened herself out and tried her best to sort out her uniform, visibly trying to ignore the large blood stain on her side. Amari turned to hold Jack’s gaze again, and together the two walked down the hall side by side, and away from the operating room.

For the first few minutes, the two walked in silence. Jack kept his peripherals on her, watching for any sign that she needed help physically or mentally. But Amari was a strong woman, and he realized that she would be the first to make a move. He just had to patiently wait for her to open up to him.

By the time the duo reached the hospital’s main entrance, Amari had stopped to look outside the windows. Surprisingly, the sun was up, and another day was starting.

A minute passed by in silence.

Amari let out a small, shaking sigh. Her voice was rough, and she had to clear her throat. Still, it trembled unsteadily. “What a day.”

Jack took his time before answering, going by her side and keeping his gaze out towards the changing sky. A few pigeons fluttered above, landing on a nearby rooftop. Some lights were switching on in the apartment complex across the street. The rest of the city was bound to wake up at any moment.

“Yeah. What a day.” Jack muttered, nodding his head in agreement.

“… It’s never easy, watching someone die in your arms.” Amari said bluntly, her voice suddenly quiet. She looked down at her hands as she spoke. They had been scrubbed clean, but for Amari she could still see the blood that had stained them. Her fingers were twitching slightly. “This isn’t the first time. But it’s not something I’ll ever get used to.”

Jack was prepared to give Amari an excuse, or even an apology, but refrained from doing so. There was nothing he could say that wouldn’t just be pointless justifications. And Amari was too smart of a woman to accept them too.

Jack let out an inaudible sigh and shook his head. “No. Never.”

Another brief pause.

Suddenly, Amari turned towards him. “You know, today is my daughter’s 17th birthday.”

This was not what Jack was expecting, but he accepted this new information without betraying his calm disposition. “What is her name?”

“Faheera.” Amari stopped as she subconsciously rubbed one arm roughly. She kept her gaze outside, on the rising sun that had crept between buildings. “I promised her I would spend the whole day with her. Make her a big breakfast, just for the two of us. And look where I am now.” Amari let out a small, helpless laugh as she shook her head. “Some mother I am.”

“The day is still young. It’s barely even 8. You can still go home to your daughter.”

“If only my little Faheera was as forgiving as you.” At that Amari chuckled, a hint of a smirk at the edge of her lips. “She has a tendency to hold grudges. But she will forgive me. In time, perhaps.”

A silence passed over them as they returned their eyes to the outside world.

“What terrifies me is that she wants to follow in my footsteps. Just the other day she started talking about joining the Army instead of going to college.” Amari continued, shuddering. She was gripping her shoulders now. “I don’t ever want her going through what I experienced tonight. I won’t allow it.”

Amari would have continued, but something in her changed. She realized she had been rambling to a complete stranger.

“Why am I telling you all this? You don’t really care, do you? Why are you here?”

At this point Amari had turned away from the window and glared at Jack accusingly. He watched as tension returned to her shoulders. He kept calm in her suddenly furious presence, remaining as still as he could despite his slight confusion at her impromptu aggression. Still, he kept his gaze locked onto her eyes.

She had been expecting a reaction from him, and she deflated a little when she realized she wouldn’t get one. Amari made a disgusted tsking noise before turning away again, the anger that had seized her mere moments ago disappearing as quickly as it came.

“I know who you are, ‘Special Agent Jack Morrison of the FBI’.” Amari stated, a bit of a bite to her words. She tapped her fingers against the hospital’s glass windows. The staccato thrumming seemed to put even more of an edge in her now cold demeanor. “I should have expected the city to hand over this case to you, but not this quickly.”

Jack frowned, agitated at this sudden turn of events. It was no secret that the OCPD resented the presence of the FBI team in their home city. Some officers were particularly… forthcoming with their opinions. It shouldn’t have surprised Jack that Amari would be one among the masses. But this wasn’t the time for petty rivalries between law divisions.

His frown deepened as he finally spoke up, a hint of anger in his tone. “You should know why I’m here. I’m here to catch the bastard that did this to Him.”

Jack pointed a finger down the hall way, towards the operating room. The hall was empty; the Vic was still in the middle of surgery.

“If he doesn’t survive this, we need to bring his killer to justice.” Jack continued. He took a step towards Amari, catching her attention. “In order to do that, I need your help, without this aggression towards me and my team. I’m just another cop, just like you. Just from a different division, that’s all.”

Amari hesitated before nodding, sighing in defeat. “I understand. You have my assistance.”

Jack looked at Amari again, his gaze not as grim as before as relief flooded through him. Yet he could feel his eyebrows furrow as he thought quietly. Amari was not the woman the expected once he had managed to bring her out of her shell shock. Jack was forced to realize how strong and determined she was. She had to be, being an officer of the law in this dying city.

Amari was clever, strong willed, but extremely compassionate. In the back of his mind, Jack quietly remembered he could always use someone like that on his team. But unfortunately, they weren’t recruiting new members at this time.

Amari was rubbing her shoulders and arms at this point, shivering from lack of sleep. Jack could see that she was quickly tiring from their squabble, and how she longed to be back by her partner’s side. He had taken enough of her time already.

So he finally asked. “Now that we’ve… ah, introduced ourselves, can you answer some questions for me?”

Amari turned towards him, an eyebrow raised in question. Still, despite her suspicions she nodded her head, allowing for Jack to continue.

“Taking my statement, are you?” Amari queried. She let out a tired sigh before bringing a hand up to her temple. “Very well, Agent Morrison. What do you wish to know?”

“Everything you can remember.” Jack said.

Amari nodded again, and then quickly launched into telling her story. Jack hastily grabbed his personal recorder and leaned against the wall as he listened to her words. He listened as Amari told him how at first her patrol with Zaryanova had started as routine.

She and Zaryanova had gotten the short end of the stick back at the precinct when they were assigned the Copperstone patrol. In her words, Amari mentioned that Copperstone was a dangerous neighborhood to patrol, especially during the early morning hours. Jack couldn’t help but agree; he had seen the statistics for the city, and Copperstone had the largest premeditative crime rate out of all of Overlook Coast’s neighborhoods.

However, Amari and Zaryanova took the patrol in stride and had begun the long night at sundown. The night had been unusually quiet, save for a couple run-ins with some would be burglars. But that all changed when they got a call from dispatcher, and long time friend, Bill Cortez at 2:43.

“Someone had called in, saying they heard a physical fight in a warehouse. We were the closest squad car near the location, so we got the call. At first we thought it was just another fight between gangs, one that had ended with some dead punk. It wouldn’t have been the first time it happened. Still, we went in prepared, with back up on the way.

“When we arrived at the scene, there were obvious signs of a struggle. But other than the victim, there was no one else there. The perpetrator had fled before we arrived to sweep the area. And we didn’t continue to look for them when we realized the state of the poor boy. He needed our help quickly.

“He was still awake when we found him, but just barely. I asked for his name, but he couldn’t answer. He was… slipping.” Amari said, her voice trailing off. The story was getting harder to tell. She was beginning to get a glazed over look in her eyes as she continued. Her dazed and unfocused gaze travelled to the far end of the hallway from where they came from.

“Were you able to get anything out of him?” Jack hesitantly asked, hoping not to break her slipping concentration.

Amari shook her head slowly.

“He was just… begging us to save him. He was in tears, crying for us. I think he was… he was—” Amari stopped herself. She shuddered again and turned away for a few seconds. When she continued, her voice was almost too low to hear. “No. I don’t think he was coherent enough to do anything else. He was just in so much pain. More than anything we could ever experience.”

Jack let that sink in. He couldn’t imagine what it felt like to lose an arm in such a violent way. Which reminded him...

“Can you tell me the extent of his wounds?” Jack asked.

After a short pause, Amari collected herself long enough to answer Jack. “Yes. He had a severe head wound, which had started congealing by the time we arrived on the scene. His right arm was missing from below the shoulder. It looked like a clean cut. But there was no sign of it anywhere on the premises.” She looked to Jack, who nodded his head. Yes, he knew about the arm. His team was still looking for it. “Deep lacerations to his legs. A lot of blood loss. A lot of blood…”

She suddenly stopped, unable to continue onward. Her eyes had that haunted look again. Amari was just slightly shaking her head. Amari closed her eyes and forced herself to take another calming breath.

“Other than that, there were several other minor wounds that weren’t life threatening, Agent Morrison.”

He nodded his head. Jack would have to get another statement from the doctor for confirmation, but what Amari told him it sounded like everything he had seen at the crime scene. He hadn’t known about the head wound, and hopefully that new information would help with the forensics back in the lab.

“Can you tell me what he was wearing, if you can remember?” Jack pressed on. “It’s okay if you can’t remember; it probably wasn’t a priority for you when you found him.”

“No it was not, but I remember a few things.” Amari said. She paused as she carefully bit her bottom lip, deep in thought. “He was wearing orange pants. Jeans of some kind, that much I can remember. Something I’ve probably seen my daughter’s friends wear. And a black leather jacket… part of a leather jacket.”

“Anything else? A wallet? A license?”

“No wallet, I’m afraid. But he did have green hair.”

“Dyed Green hair?”

“Yes.” Amari said with a firm nod. “Please explain, how will me telling you what he was wearing help you?”

“I’m hoping that his clothing can help tell us what his standing in society is, or how old he is. We don’t know his name yet, and we have no way to identify him. If he doesn’t recover from surgery, we’ll be left with nothing.” Jack explained. “You said you’re daughter’s friends wore clothing similar to his?”

Amari nodded. “I’ve only seen teenagers and young college students wear paints that bright and annoying of a color.”

“Then he might be a lot younger than we first thought. Or he may have a family looking for him at this very moment.” Jack said. Jack quickly dug out his small notebook from his pocket. He quickly jotted down a few notes for himself. _Young Kid, college aged? Under 25. Check missing persons._ “Every little bit helps with our investigation. Thank you for your time.”

“I’m afraid I won’t be much more help. After we found him, my partner and I escorted him to this hospital.” As she said that, Amari turned to look down the hall again. She started to fidget. “If you are done, I would like to return to the operating room.”

Jack nodded. He did as well.

They made their way back to the operating room. Officer Zaryanova was still asleep; it looked like she hadn’t moved at all since they left. Not much had changed, save for the time on the wall mounted clock. With a quick look, Jack saw that several hours had passed since his arrival. 8:14. The Vic had been in surgery for 5 hours now. This didn’t bode well.

Jack and Amari stood by the door side by side. Amari was fairing much better than she had before their walk, but now that they returned, she started to cross her arms and hunch herself over. She was slowing going back into her shell-shocked state. If it wasn't for Jack's persistent company, he knew that the woman would have relapsed. Still, Amari kept her eyes focused on her still sleeping partner’s bright pink hair.

"She should have gone home hours ago." Amari whispered under her breath, motioning towards Zaryanova. Jack glanced at Amari, silently questioning whether that was a rhetorical statement. However, she met his gaze and shook her head. "I was the one that wanted to stay."

"If you were her, would you have left?" Jack quietly asked.

There was a long pause. "No. Not until... not until I heard from the doctors."

Jack nodded his head, silently acknowledging her statement. That was the other reason for his visit here.

Silence fell between them again. They waited together, standing side by side. From here by the door, Jack could hear the low hum of medical equipment and tired voices from the other side of the door. He brought his eyes down to his shoes as he concentrated on their voices.

It was difficult to tell how many doctors and staff there were in the room. There was a deep masculine voice. Another man's, higher in pitch. An experienced feminine. Another feminine, coarse and tired. And several more, yet their hushed tones were almost impossible to pick up over the sound of the machinery.  What Jack could hear most clearly was the sound of a heart monitor. Its steady clicks kept him rooted in spot. The victim was still alive.

They had returned just in time. Perhaps ten minutes passed, and then Jack and Ana heard footsteps behind the door. The pair turned around just in time to hear the click of the door's lock. And then a woman opened the door.

She wore dark blue scrubs, but their pristine state had been spoiled by the scattered amounts of blood by her waist. Her gloves were stained by the remnants of drying blood. She quickly pulled them off and safely discarded them in the operating room's trash bin. She turned around and came face to face with Ana and Jack.

Jack took in her features, even though half of her face was still covered by a surgical mask. He was first captured by her piercing blue eyes, which held both great compassion and wisdom beyond her years. This was a woman who loved often and dearly, but not necessarily in the romantic aspect. Protruding out of her hair cap were frizzled strands of golden blonde hair, damp from the sweat and stress of performing hours long surgery. The woman carefully took off her mask, only to reveal a face Jack had once known.

What was the world renowned Dr. Angela Ziegler doing here? In a small, more than likely under budget hospital in the middle of south eastern Overlook Coast? Last time Jack had heard from her, Angela had been working in Geneva.

Angela recognized Jack as well; surprise haunted her facial expressions for a brief second. He must have looked like a ghost to her, with his grey hair and tired skin. But with a sharp look from Angela, he knew that this was not the time for reintroductions. That suited well with him. Later, when this case was done and over with, he would reach out to his old friend.

Angel instead turned to Ana. "You must be one of the officers that found the boy, yes?"

If Ana was at all fazed by Angela's noticeable Swiss accent, her face didn't betray her. "Yes, along with my partner."

“I’m Dr. Angela Ziegler, the main surgeon in charge of his operations.” Angela said, introducing herself. The two women quickly shook hands before returning to business. “Has his next of kin been found and notified?”

Jack answered her, quickly sharing a look with Amari. “No. We’re still not sure who he is, Doc.”

Angela frowned, but nevertheless continued. “In any case, I turn to you. Before I say anything else, the surgery was miraculously a success.”

Amari was comforted by this, relief sweeping through her shoulders. For the most part, the victim was out of the woods.

“It was arduous, but we managed to stop the bleeding. However, if you’re hoping to question him, you’re out of luck.” Angela stated, pointedly looking at Jack as she spoke. She knew what he wanted to do, and this was her way of firmly putting her foot down.  “He’s currently unconscious; we had to put him in an induced coma to prevent him from waking up mid-surgery.”

“Any clue when he’ll wake up?” Jack asked. His team needed to know who the Vic was. Putting a name to a body would make their investigation so much easier.

“It’s hard to say, given the amount of trauma he endured. Possibly for the rest of the day?”

Jack frowned as he thought this over. Jack wasn’t a patient man, especially now in his older age, but he could wait for a day before speaking with the victim. During that time, he could head back to the crime scene or the lab, just to see how the rest of his team was handling.

 _Or,_ Jack thought with a yawn, _I could get a couple hours rest back at home._

“Would you mind if I take a quick look at him?” Jack asked quickly. Angela gave him a questioning glance as he quickly pulled up his camera and held it for both women to see. “I’d like to take a look at his injuries, photograph them for my specialists.”

“Of course, Special Agent. Whatever you need.” Angela said, albeit through a tired sigh. “I’ll escort you to him.”

Amari elected to wait outside; while the news of his assured recovery surely elated her, the woman was not prepared to see the Vic post-operation. Jack understood her reasons. Jack shared a quick glance with Angela before she opened the door to the operating room. She led him inside before closing the door behind them.

Most of the operating staff had left, either to catch a small 15 minute break or to head home for some much needed sleep. Only a couple remained; one nurse taking care of the surgical tools and an older doctor sitting beside the victim. The fellow doctor was quietly taking down the Vic’s vitals, and then prepared to hook up another blood bag into the IV. The two barely acknowledged Jack as he approached his victim.

Jack took one look at the boy. His gut plummeted.

“Angela. What have you _done_?”

“ _I_ saved his life.”

Jack couldn’t help but feel horrified as he took in the boy. Not only was his right arm missing, which he had been expecting, but also his legs. There was nothing left but bandaged stumps below his pelvis, hidden underneath a hastily thrown over blanket. But Jack could see the indentations of where the stumps were, where his legs should have been. The remnants of his right arm were also gone, another clean amputation just below the shoulder.

He was a triple amputee.

“Why the legs?” Jack turned towards Angela, giving her an accusatory glare. “Couldn’t they have been saved?”

Angela was unfazed by the look. “There was too much damage. I could have sealed the wounds, stitched him up. But then we would have ran into the risk of dead and diseased flesh. Jack, he never would have been able to walk again. They would have been dead weight.”

It took a few seconds, but Jack finally relented with an exasperated sigh. He knew Angela, and Angela knew best. He just had to trust her judgment, like years before. But this was still a lot of information to process. Jack couldn’t help but shake his head as he pulled up a chair and sat next to the boy. He stared at his sleeping face, thrown off by how sickly and pale it looked even in sleep. Jack stared at the boy’s face, trying not to look at all the damage that had been done to him.

 The kid was bound to go through a living nightmare when he woke up.

 _Get into the work mentality, Jack. Now’s not the time to feel sorry for the kid._ Jack thought to himself, trying to bottle his rising anger as he set himself ready to take pictures. Jack quickly primed his camera and took another look at Angela. _You can feel sorry **after** you catch the sick bastard that did this._

The boy’s head had been shaved, flecks of dyed green hair rested against his shoulders and the surface he was lying on. A thick set of bandages covered the naked scalp, protecting the head wound underneath from infection as it healed. His ears weren’t covered, however, and Jack could see the stitches that had covered the upper part of his right ear. Jack remembered the piercing Winston found back at the crime scene; it must have belonged to him.

Jack turned on the flash and snapped several pictures of his head and face.

“Asian. Aged 20 to 25. A John Doe until further notice.” Jack muttered to himself. The click and flash of his camera instantly brought him back to the job at hand, and the rest of the real world faded into nothing. “No documentation on his personal belongings when found. Have to search city records…”

**Author's Note:**

> This is a side story set in the same universe of And Yet I Live, which I highly recommend you read as well, and will detail the lives of the Overwatch FBI team as they seek out Genji's attacker and his past. The story will be mostly focused on the Case surrounding Genji's almost death, and will often update along with And Yet I Live. I hope to show how the Overwatch FBI works together and how they operate within Overlook Coast.


End file.
